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	<title>Salon.com > Lucy Silag</title>
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		<title>Psst! Have you heard&#8230;?</title>
		<link>http://www.salon.com/2007/09/03/gossip/</link>
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		<pubDate>Mon, 03 Sep 2007 10:43:00 +0000</pubDate>
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				<category><![CDATA[Life]]></category>
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		<description><![CDATA[I realized I was addicted to gossiping, so I quit. But after four months, my friends think I'm a narcissistic bore -- and all I want to do is dish some dirt.]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>There is a moment -- well, one hopes -- in every <a target href="http://dir.salon.com/topics/addiction/">addict's</a> life in which the addict sees the path he or she is headed down and prays to a higher power to help him or her change. Of course, this prayer might go unanswered, or circumstances might get in the way. </p><p> For me, the moment came on a Thursday in late May; I don't think I'll ever be able to forget it. I was sweating with anxiety, staring at my flushed face in the reflection of the subway car window. I had to stop gossiping. At least until Labor Day. It was ruining my life. </p><p> The day leading up to that moment had been like any other day. Just before I left work, I found myself parroting back to a group of co-workers a story of little significance that one of our higher-ups had shared with me. The effect was one I knew well: lowered voices, elevated heart rates, widened eyes and heads shaking in disbelief. There was no reason for me to have repeated what our boss said, and if she had found out that I had told, she likely would not have cared. Still, I felt the familiar rush that accompanies shared speculation, and got swept up in it. </p><p><a href="http://www.salon.com/2007/09/03/gossip/">Continue Reading...</a></p>]]></content:encoded>
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